


Hanabi

by Lys ap Adin (lysapadin)



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M, Smut, drabble_game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-31
Updated: 2009-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-05 13:20:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysapadin/pseuds/Lys%20ap%20Adin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're probably not going to make it to watch the fireworks, but then, the fireworks really aren't that important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hanabi

**Author's Note:**

> Smut, with incidental goldfish. For a round of drabble_game, prompt: "The night, lit up." 1001 words.

Yuuta's shoulders are very straight in his yukata, which is dark grey like his eyes and patterned with fine stripes that draw Koujirou's eyes along the lines of Yuuta's body and his thoughts to places where they shouldn't ought to be. Yuuta has a bag with a goldfish in it dangling from one wrist and sweat beading at his temples, and he gives Koujirou an impatient look. "Come on, slowpoke, we're going to miss the fireworks."

"The fireworks, right," Koujirou says, distracted by the way Yuuta's yukata gaps at the throat and shows the wings of his collarbones, the skin there gleaming with sweat in the light of the lanterns swinging overhead.

"Yeah, the fireworks, come _on_." Yuuta doesn't wait for him to get with it, and reaches out, long tennis-calloused fingers wrapping around Koujirou's wrist, and tugs him along through the crowd. "If we don't hurry, we're going to get shafted on the good seats."

Koujirou only half-listens, because most of his attention is taken up by the rasp of Yuuta's fingers against his inner wrist and the way his brain has gone syrup-slow and stupid with lust. Yuuta doesn't bother with waiting for a reply, anyway. "I think we can cut through here," he announces, and pulls Koujirou into the gap between a pair of vendor's stalls.

It's darker behind the row of stalls, and quieter, now that they're away from the bustle of the crowd. Yuuta tugs Koujirou along, complaining all the while that they're going to miss out on the good seats, and never mind that they probably have. Koujirou follows along, obediently, until Yuuta takes a sharp left down a little alley, and then a right down another, and then a third turn that turns out to be a dead end where two buildings abut the back wall of a third.

"Shit," Yuuta says, glaring at the wall like he thinks it'll magically turn into a door that leads them to the hillside where they'd planned on watching the fireworks. "We're definitely going to be late now."

"Mm," Koujirou says, distracted by the fact that Yuuta has managed to stumble on the one private spot in the whole damn festival. It's practically a miracle, what with all the crowds.

Yuuta turns and gives him a suspicious look. "What do you mean, 'mm'? Don't you _care_?"

He gives that all the consideration it's due when Yuuta is standing there and they're alone. "Not really," Koujirou says, and moves in for the kill.

"Hey," Yuuta says, when Koujirou crowds him against the wall, and then, "Sae!" when Koujirou runs his mouth along the side of Yuuta's throat, tongue tracing over the tendon there and lapping at the salt of Yuuta's sweat. Koujirou hums to him, hands finding Yuuta's hips, and nips at his earlobe.

All the resistance runs out of Yuuta at once. "I guess the fireworks aren't that important," he says, and hooks the goldfish-free arm around Koujirou's shoulders, hauling him closer.

That's pretty much what Koujirou thinks, at least in the last bits of his brain that are bothering with thinking at all. Then he finds Yuuta's mouth and there's no room in his head except for the slickness of Yuuta's tongue against his and the cotton under his hands, and the way Yuuta's breath hitches when Koujirou presses against him. It's been a long evening of having to look at Yuuta without getting to touch him. Now Koujirou is making up for lost time, hands stroking down the leanness of Yuuta's body and mouth moving down the other side of Yuuta's throat as Yuuta gasps and arches against him.

There's more than one reason to like Yuuta in a yukata: he doesn't just look good in it, it's _convenient_, too. Koujirou mouths the sweep of one of Yuuta's collarbones as he slides a hand inside Yuuta's yukata, pushing aside layers of cotton and wrapping his hands around Yuuta's cock. Yuuta groans, his hips rolling into Koujirou's grip, and his arm tightens around Koujirou's shoulder. Koujirou sucks on Yuuta's shoulder and plays his fingers over Yuuta's cock, letting them slide over the smooth hot skin of him, as Yuuta gasps and shudders and then finally breaks apart with a low cry, body taut and straining against his.

"Fuck," Yuuta says, slumping against the wall, breathing hard, when he finally stops shaking. "Fuck, Sae."

"Kind of, yeah," Koujirou agrees, and steals another kiss.

Yuuta just snorts into his mouth, and then pushes at his chest, backing him up till Koujirou's shoulders hit the opposite wall. "Yeah, yeah. Hold this." He shoves something into Koujirou's hands, something heavy--the goldfish, Koujirou realizes, belatedly, it must be _so traumatized_ by all this. He laughs at the thought, even as Yuuta is sinking to his knees and folding Koujirou's own yukata out of the way. Then the laugh catches in his throat as Yuuta leans forward and strokes his tongue against Koujirou's cock.

Yuuta's mouth is hot around him. The pleasure that drives through Koujirou makes his head fall back, just in time to see the first of the fireworks explode across the sky over them, brilliant red and gold and silver and green against the dark of the sky. Koujirou pants against the sticky heat of the night air and the wetness of Yuuta's mouth sliding over him, slow and exquisite, until he can't tell which are the real fireworks and which are the ones painting themselves against the insides of his eyelids as he comes, shoulders digging against the bricks at his back as he shudders.

When he opens his eyes again, Yuuta is leaning against the wall next to him, face turned up to the sky and the play of lights there. The fireworks reflect against the gleam of his smile and in his eyes. "'s kind of pretty," he says, without taking his eyes from the fireworks.

"Yeah," Koujirou says, not even looking up, and reaches over to fit their hands together. "It kind of is."


End file.
